


Prompts

by moriartys_best_kept_secret



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriartys_best_kept_secret/pseuds/moriartys_best_kept_secret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>feel free to send me prompts if you like!</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Sunrises and Promises

Sebastian never knew it, but Jim secretly counted every month they spent together. He never knew that once a month, when Jim was strangely nicer than usual, it was Jim’s way of celebrating their time together. He always appreciated these moments, always thinking in the back of his mind that he’s just caught Jim on a good day. Even when Sherlock came along and distracted Jim, Jim still counted because no one could come close to how he felt for Sebastian.

That’s why when one day, one of those out of the blue, happy Jim days, Jim woke Sebastian with a kiss and told him to get up.

“Why?” Sebastian mumbled, turning on his side sleepily. “I thought you said today was going to be a no work day?”

“It is a no work day,” Jim said softly, trying to roll Sebastian on his back. Sebastian didn’t resist and let Jim fall into his arms.

“So why can’t you let me sleep in for once?” Sebastian complained, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist.

“You never sleep in,” Jim said, planting a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek. “You don’t like to waste your morning sleeping.”

“Well I’ve never had the opportunity to find out if I like it or not.” Sebastian stifled a yawn and slowly sat up in bed, trying to wake himself up.

“You’ll have plenty of time to do that in the future,” Jim muttered.

Today he was not going to allow himself to think of the cold future ahead, if things went to plan. Today is to be focused on him and Sebastian. Jim climbed out of bed and tugged on Sebastian’s arm. “Come on, get up. I don’t want to miss it!”

“Miss what?” Sebastian asked, doing as he was told.

Jim grabbed his hand and led him into the living room where Jim had pushed the leather armchair to face the window. Two cups of tea sat on the window ledge. Sebastian smiled. This was Jim’s happy day, then.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise with you,” Jim said, motioning for Sebastian to sit in the chair. Jim sat on his lap, leaning back into Sebastian’s chest and pulled Sebastian’s arms around him.

In the span of seconds, they sat watching the world wake up in the early light of morning, before peace would be broken by noisy cars and scurrying employees going to work. This morning though, they were going to sit in the silence and hold the peace as long as they could.

“Sebastian?” Jim said, turning his head slightly to feel the brush of Sebastian’s stubble against his lips.

“Hm?” Sebastian squeezed his arms lightly around Jim, holding him in place.

“Promise me you’ll never forget me,” Jim said softly.

“What are you saying that for?” Sebastian asked, turning Jim so he could look him in the eye.

“Just promise me,” Jim answered, hugging Sebastian tightly. “I need to know you’ll never forget me.”

“I don’t need to promise,” Sebastian replied, wary of Jim’s different behavior this morning. “There’s no way I could ever forget you. Not in a million years.”

“Good,” Jim said, snuggling against Sebastian. “I could never forget you either.”


	2. Look

Jim Moriarty had four looks. There were only two looks Sebastian liked to see coming from Jim.

The first being when Jim looks at Sebastian with his big chocolate brown eyes full of lust. The second being the incredibly rare moments Jim wakes up first and Sebastian catches him looking at him so endearingly, so unlike Jim. Those were the best.

The last time Jim looked at him lovingly was on the 2nd March. It was such a rare thing to happen, of course Sebastian remembered the date. He had opened his eyes sleepily to find Jim’s disarming gaze and for once, Jim didn’t hastily avert his eyes when caught. Instead he had wrapped an arm around Sebastian, and smiling sheepishly leaned forward to kiss Sebastian softly and sweetly. It took Sebastian off guard to have Jim kissing him so opposite of the rough, needy kisses they shared. But nonetheless he didn’t complain with Jim’s tender mood.

But when Jim was fuming, whether it was directed at Sebastian or not, Sebastian had never felt such fear crawl up his spine before. Jim’s eyes blazed with anger and he was never responsible for the actions to be followed to relieve such anger.

The first time this happened, when a deal that had taken months to negotiate, went sour, Jim had went on a psychotic rampage. He took matters into his own hands, killing those responsible for the bad situation at hand. When Sebastian had tried to soothe him, a mistake he had never made again, he was met with devilish eyes that knew no boundaries. Sebastian easily could have been a casualty that day just for being at the wrong place at the wrong time during Jim’s break. He made sure to stay out of the line of fire the next time it happened.

The last look was another Sebastian hated to see. The dead, empty look Jim got when he was dreadfully bored. It pained Sebastian when this look haunted Jim’s eyes because there was usually nothing he could do, no matter how hard he tried. Jim would act lifeless and the only thing Sebastian could do is make suggestions for Jim to get him living again. Like whether he really could steal the crown jewels or break into the Bank of England.

Today was a lusty day and as Sebastian sat typing away at his laptop, looking up new models of rifles, he glanced up at Jim to find him staring back. Sebastian was well acquainted with this look and quickly laid the laptop on the coffee table before Jim could lunge at him. Landing on Sebastian’s lap, pushing him back on the couch, Jim straddled Sebastian and leaned down to kiss him roughly. As Sebastian ran his hands through Jim’s hair, pulling him close against his face, he thought there’s no better day than when Jim is like this.


	3. Worry

Jim tried not to worry about Sebastian but he couldn't help it. He was supposed to oppress those feelings because they were dangerous to him. A man who could break down others all because of a weakness, and now he has one of his own. Jim first realized his weakness for worrying about Sebastian when the sniper came home one night with a slashed arm. To Sebastian it was a scratch, to Jim, it was an excuse to carve his initials on Sebastian's chest.

This time, despite the many texts Jim sent expressing his concern, Sebastian never replied. What made Jim even more anxious was the fact that before Sebastian had left for his job that evening, Jim had jokingly- but maybe Sebastian thought he was serious- remarked, "If something goes wrong, don't expect to be welcomed home tonight."

So did it mean Sebastian had screwed up his kill? Of all people, Sebastian should know by now that he was the only person in the world Jim wouldn't force into resignation, which in other words meant Jim couldn't kill him. Sebastian's punishment would only be some scratches, never anything too life-threatening. Jim already had his initials carved twice on Sebastian, once on the chest for that slashed arm, the other on his calf just because he could.

And so Jim resorted to a desperate attempt to reach his Tiger. He was going to go out in publish sans backup. If Jim was a betting man, which he couldn't afford to be since he'd just assassinate anyone who beat him, he would bet Sebastian would be sulking in a bar.

Sebastian frequented three bars. There was his fuck-I'm-mad-at-Jim bar, where he'd get drunk, then let Jim persuade him to come home and make up for it. Then there was his fuck-Jim-is-moody-again bar when the idiots of the world made him very angry and most likely to take it out on anyone. Lastly there was his hiding-from-Jim bar, the one place he thought Jim couldn't find him. Of course, the first time Jim couldn't find him at the regular bars, Jim had to search further. Even though Jim knew about the hiding-from-Jim bar, he never could bring himself to confront Sebastian there. He thought the man deserved at least his own place of privacy, until Jim really needed to get him. This, however, was a desperate attempt to find Sebastian because Jim didn't know for sure he would be there.

What if he was seriously hurt and decided to drink himself to death? Jim would never forgive himself if that happened. And so he went, an open target for any enemy, dressed in a navy blue Gucci suit and armed with a pistol. His weakness egging him on to find the man he couldn't bear to be parted from; love may be too strong of a word for a man without a heart.

Jim walked into the night, walking far to get to the bar Sebastian took the pains to hide in. Finally he went down stairs into the bar and there Sebastian was, sitting in a dark booth drinking himself into a drunken stupor. How long he'd been there already, Jim didn't know. Sebastian hadn't seen Jim come in, neither did he notice the man stand in front of his booth. He jumped when Jim slid in next to him.

"I think you've had enough of those," Jim said dryly, staring at the empty bottles on the table.

"I think I'll have as much as I'd like," Sebastian growled.

Jim did a quick once-over of Sebastian, unable to find any visible scratches. Jim said softly, "It couldn't have been that bad," in reference to the job. He lightly placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off. "Come on, Tiger," he tried, wanting to show Sebastian he wouldn't be mad.

"You said I wouldn't be welcome home tonight if I messed up, so here I am," Sebastian said before shooting down the rest of some alcoholic drink. He scowled, "And don't call me Tiger."

"But you are my Tiger," Jim said soothingly. "Come on, you can tell me what happened."

"Why?" Sebastian snapped. "So you can assess what punishment to give me?"

"No." Jim was quiet, staring at his small hands on top of the table. "You had me worried when you ignored my texts."

"Worried?" Sebastian scoffed, but when he saw Jim's hurt look he had the tact to look guilty. "You said not to come home," he said quietly.

"You know what?" Jim asked, putting the glass Sebastian was about to raise to his lips back down on the table. "I don't want to know what happened tonight. Just come home with me."

Sebastian thought about it for a minute. "Are you going to punish me tonight?" he asked, looking Jim straight in the eyes.

Jim sighed and tried to place his hand back on Sebastian's hand. Sebastian didn't move it away. "No," Jim said, "I think I'll let you rest tonight."

Sebastian glanced at Jim incredulously, then nodded. Silently they left the bar together, Jim relieved that his Tiger was coming home.


	4. Routine

Jim Moriarty liked for things to always go to plan. He had his own schedule and once having a flatmate, he had to teach Sebastian how things had to be. Having Sebastian live with him changed some of the minor things he was used to, like having to go to sleep later because of the sex. It also meant having someone to get up earlier than him and make the coffee so it was always ready after he took a shower and got dressed.

There was one day that Jim couldn't account for, and that was the day he woke up with a stomach virus.

Sebastian awoke to an unpleasant start one morning to hear Jim emptying his stomach in the bathroom. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the alarm clock's neon green numbers. 3:07 a.m. Should he go to back to sleep or ask Jim if- what? he needed help? The only thing either of them could do was wait it out. However, Jim never got sick and he'd have to have someone reschedule his duties for the day. So Sebastian padded out of bed towards the crack of light escaping under the bathroom door. Currently, there was no sound other than Jim's shallow breathing.

"You okay?" Sebastian asked, pushing the door open. Obviously he was not. Jim was hunched over the toilet, face pale and glistened with sweat. Jim squinted his eyes at him, about to speak, but then his eyes went wide with horror and he lurched his head into the toilet. His back heaved before the disturbing wet sounds of throw up landed in the toilet.

Sebastian grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom closet and wet it under the sink. When Jim resurfaced, Sebastian leaned forward and wiped his mouth clean. Dropping the cloth in the sink, Sebastian grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water for Jim to rinse his mouth. There was nothing else he could do, so he just sat on the edge of the bath, wiping Jim's mouth every time he resurfaced.

Finally the throwing up slowed down to occurring every thirty minutes or so, allowing Jim to doze off when he could. It was now 6:55 in the morning and Sebastian convinced Jim to lay upright in bed with a garbage bin next to him.

"Can you get me some water?" Jim croaked as he slowly made his way to the bed.

"Sure thing, boss," Sebastian said, dashing to the kitchen. He grabbed a clean glass and filled it with filtered water from the fridge. Careful not to spill it on his way back to Jim, he strolled quickly to Jim's side. Jim eagerly took a few big gulps before placing the glass next to him on the night stand, sighing as he leaned his head back against the wall. Sebastian looked down at Jim. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, Moran," Jim snapped weakly. "I don't understand how I got sick. I'm _never_ sick."

"Well there you go, boss," Sebastian replied, crossing his arms. "Never say never. Besides, I think it was the Chinese you ate last night. You should have had pizza with me instead."

"I'm never eating that greasy, cheesy mess in my life," Jim said, shaking his head slowly.

"Well, it's too late now since you have it. Want some saltine crackers?" Sebastian asked, taking in how poor he looked. Jim shook his head again, Sebastian persisted. "You need to eat something."

"I don't want to eat anything if it's going to come back up," Jim said. He closed his eyes, his skin going paler again. "Ugh," he said after throwing up in the bin. "When will this be over?"

"It'll be over soon, boss," Sebastian said consolingly. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on the sheet above Jim's leg. "The throwing up will stop soon but you'll probably spend the day sleeping."

"But I can't!" Jim exclaimed, looking horrified. "I've got a meeting with some Germans and I have emails to read and people that need checking up on!"

"You can't go anywhere, Jim," Sebastian said firmly. "I can do all those things for you. You're too weak to work. Want to throw up on one of your suits?"

Jim was silent for a moment, thinking it over. It would be awfully embarrassing if he threw up or even dozed off during the meeting. After a few seconds, he mumbled, "I don't want you to do my work for me."

"You can't do it yourself!" Sebastian protested, shaking Jim's leg lightly for emphasis.

"No," Jim took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was going to say this. "I suppose I'll have to take the day off. Reschedule the meeting for me. I want you to stay."

Sebastian nodded, satisfied, and got up from the bed. "I'll go call the Germans, then I'll be right back."

Jim watched Sebastian leave, feeling disgusting and sick. His stomach hurt and he managed to doze off until the sounds of Sebastian's footsteps returning woke him up.

"Okay, meeting's rescheduled for next Wednesday," Sebastian said, settling back down on his side of the bed. "You should probably try to sleep some more. How long's it been since you last threw up?"

"Ten minutes, I think," Jim replied, shutting his eyes. He groaned, "How do people cope with this? This has got to be the worst feeling in the world."

"You'll live," Sebastian scoffed, causing Jim to narrow his eyes at him. "It's just a part of life people go through."

"Well _I'm_ not most people," Jim said. "James Moriarty does not get stomach bugs."

"Apparently you do," Sebastian said, nodding to the bin. "Just think, tomorrow you'll feel better."

"I may but the cook won't," Jim muttered. Sebastian gave him a confused look and Jim rolled his eyes before giving another order for the day. "Tomorrow when I'm _feeling better_ your job will be to find that cook from the Chinese place and make sure he never cooks again."

Sebastian suppressed a smirk. Jim would order him to do such a thing. Didn't mean it would prevent Jim from getting a stomach virus again. He leaned back against the headboard of the bed, crossing his arms and letting his eyelids finally droop. "Sure thing, boss," he muttered. "Sure thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to send me prompts if you like!


	5. Flirt

"What the hell are you looking at, Moran?" Jim snapped at Sebastian one day.

They were sitting in the living room of their flat. Jim was reading the paper, looking out for any headlines on a fraud he assisted with -and by assisted I mean executed for a reasonable sum. Sebastian was sitting across from him, on an armchair, staring intently at the back of the paper as if his look could burn a hole right through it. Jim noticed the look as he was turning the page.

"I'm looking at you, sir," Sebastian replied.

"And why are you looking at me? Do you find something amusing?" Jim asked, narrowing his eyes at his sniper.

Sebastian wet his lips before replying, "I find you have a solution for a problem I'm facing."

"I do?" Jim asked. He began to fold his newspaper, wondering what game Sebastian was up to now. "And what might that be?"

"The cure to my boredom," Sebastian said simply. He sunk lower in his chair, spreading his legs open a bit wider and cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

"Is that what you're after?" Jim tutted, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"It's a slow work day today," Sebastian commented, palming his crotch.

"Maybe for you, but I have things to do," Jim said, standing up from his seat.

"Like me." Sebastian stood up too, quickly stepping forward until he faced Jim but not touching. He didn't have permission for that... yet.

"Like going over whether the agreements the Russians drew up for the arms trade are negotiable," Jim corrected, but didn't move.

"You need a break," Sebastian suggested, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"I just took one," Jim retorted, taking a step backwards.

"Take a longer break," Sebastian suggested. He took a step forward. "After all, you are the boss. You can do _whatever_ you like."

"Yes, I can and what I need to do is see if my assistance isn't further needed," Jim said, side stepping Moran.

"Oh I think your assistance is very much needed if you look in the right places." Moran blocked Jim, once again leaving inches between the two of them. Jim's eyes flitted down and up, assessing the truth to Moran's words.

"I've got clients that need attention," Jim announced, once again taking a step away from Sebastian, only to be followed.

"Aren't I important?" Sebastian asked pouting. Jim was being a bit more difficult than usual. Sebastian was going to have to pull out the big guns soon.

Jim ignored the question, trying to head into his office. If he reached his office before Sebastian could persuade him otherwise, he wouldn't see Jim until God knows when.

"Okay, okay, surely you can spend a couple of minutes with me? I'll make it worth your while." Sebastian winked, slowly going down to his knees.

Encouraged by Jim's lack of resistance, Sebastian leaned forward, nuzzling his face against Jim's inner thigh. He pushed Jim back down on the couch, pushing Jim's legs apart so he could kneel in between them. He pulled down the zipper, palming Jim's cock through his trousers. It twitched, and satisfied, Sebastian pulled out Jim's length. Sebastian looked up at Jim mischievously, waiting for permission.

When Jim nodded his consent, Sebastian took his cue. He took Jim in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the head and sucking hard. Jim's low groans kept him going and he took Jim in deeper. He moaned around Jim's cock, trying his best to drive Jim wild. Jim fisted his hands in Sebastian's hair, tugging and just about to go over the edge. Sebastian sucked harder, nails digging in Jim's thighs, running his tongue along the length as his head bobbed back and forth. He could tell Jim was close, could feel the build up and knew he wouldn't last any longer. A moan ripped from Jim's throat as he spilled, Sebastian drinking everything down.

"Not so bored now, hm?" Jim asked, smirking.

Sebastian pulled back with a sloppy grin. "I think you've cured my boredom for now."

"Just remember I have a good excuse to interrupt you from doing something important next time you're busy," Jim said with an answering smile, fixing his trousers.

"Looking forward to it, boss," Sebastian responded. "I hope you interrupt me sooner rather than later."

"That you'll just have to wait and see." Jim winked and pushed himself off the couch to get back to work.


	6. Halloween

"Is it really necessary that I wear _this_?" Sebastian complained, sighing as he tugged at the baggy camouflage trousers he was wearing. He was dressed, of all things, as an army sergeant. Real guns attached to his belt and all.

"Absolutely," Jim replied from the bathroom, fixing up a black bow tie. Sebastian shook his head as he watched Jim carefully grooming himself in front of their bathroom mirror. "No one would suspect the gun on you is real. After all it is Halloween."

They were going to a costumed Halloween party in Lewisham, not far to travel from Butcher street, for a job. Yes, even on a day where it would be a perfectly good excuse to keep Jim at home, sitting in front of the telly with a horror movie marathon -the good, old ones that were in black and white because those new so-called "horror" movies were just ridiculous- and not working. Sebastian, however, had a job to go through and Jim had thought it would make for a truly terrifying Halloween if he could come along and watch.

"So, how do I look?" Jim stepped out of the bathroom in a black suit à la James Bond style holding a Walther PPK handgun loosely at his side. Sebastian wouldn't have been surprised if it had been loaded.

"Like you could replace 007 himself if you wanted to," Sebastian replied with a slight shake of his head. Of course Jim would go to a Halloween party in a suit.

"Nah," Jim smirked, with a shrug of the shoulders. "It's much more fun playing the villain instead. Are you well equipped for tonight?"

Sebastian patted the gun at his side and the knife hidden in his combat boots. "Yes, boss."

"Remember, for the rest of the night I'm either 'Bond' or '007'."

"Yes, _'007'_."

~

The party was taking place in the top suite of a fancy flat where people in revealing costumes were spilling in and out. It was the kind of party Jim would never have attended to but he was not going to leave Sebastian to the devices of pissed, sloppy women in costumes that were supposed to be a turn on. There was almost no point in putting an effort in a costume with the lights as dim as they were. The kitchen only had enough light to be able to distinguish the drinks, where Jim headed straight for. The loud music and bubbling of voices was already giving Jim a headache, though he tried to hide it.

"Vodka martini, shaken not stirred," Jim purred in Sebastian's ear as he went to pour the drinks. They were pressed in upon on all sides by people. Jim's gun pressed against Sebastian's back and the way he let his hand rest on Sebastian's shoulder was a distraction. They were supposed to be looking for a man in a zombie Santa costume. Sebastian turned back around, pressed against Jim and handed him a drink.

"Ugh, what is this?" Jim asked, grimacing after a sip.

"Bacardi," Sebastian replied, squeezing past a few people to make way into the living room.

"I never take rum, you know that."

"There was nothing better."

Music was pulsing from the living room where a majority of costumed people were dancing or snogging in a dark corner. The blinds were all up in the living room, a wide expanse of glass showed the dimly lit street beneath. Jim went over to the window, the effects of claustrophobia taking over.

"You okay, Bond?" Sebastian asked, nudging the people who were taking up space to dance against each other out of the way.

"Yes, yes. I just need a little air."

A blonde in a smutty nurses' outfit boldly stepped up to Sebastian and put a hand on his waist. "Want to dance with me, Sergeant?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not a chance," Sebastian growled. His eyes flickered to the newcomer pouring a drink in the kitchen in a red and white Santa hat spattered with blood. He leaned in to tell Jim, "Santa's here. I'm going to go fix him a proper drink, then we can go home. It's too loud. You'll stay here and I'll come get you?"

Jim nodded his head, grateful to be leaving soon. He turned around to watch Sebastian make his way back to the kitchen, patting zombie Santa on the back and starting a conversation. Sebastian poured drinks for the both and led Santa to another room. With a crowded party, no one would notice if a guest happened to pass out in another room. It would be hours before someone would try to wake up the zombie Santa with a realistic bullet hole through the temple.

Sebastian returned a few minutes later at Jim's side and put a hand on his elbow. "I think I'm done here for the night. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go outside and call the driver," Jim said. When they reached the colder atmosphere, Jim slipped an arm around Sebastian's. "Wasn't there some movie you wanted to watch on the telly tonight?"

"There might have been something on," Sebastian replied.

"Well, let's put something on," Jim said. "I think a night in might do me good."

Sebastian hid a smile; looks like he'd get to relax with Jim after all.


End file.
